


think fast

by restless5oul



Category: Football RPF
Genre: A little angst, A lot of romantic tension, Blow Jobs, But also kissing, It all just escalates very quickly, Kissing, M/M, Mostly friendship, Post-Euros sadness, Pre-Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:38:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restless5oul/pseuds/restless5oul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for robert lewandowski, the euros were very much like a bad dream he was trying hard to forget. for thomas müller, well, they just wouldn't leave him alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned out way longer than I meant it to, and just a warning it definitely gets super rambly towards the end. I actually started writing this way before I wrote my other Müllendowski fic, so it really was about time I got it finished. Anyway I hope you like it :)
> 
> Also very sorry about the lowkey vilifying of Arjen, it's nothing personal, just for the story.

For Robert Lewandowski, the Euros were very much like a bad dream he would rather forget. His short break from training and football had done something to lessen the niggling feeling that his national team’s fate was not one they deserved, and time spent relaxing had diminished the gnawing sense of guilt that told him he could and should have done more. Part of him was glad that international games didn’t have to be played every week, just a few weeks of carrying and leading the Polish national team had ground him down to the bone, and he certainly didn’t envy Lahm anymore than he had before he’d left for France.

 

Returning to the relative normality of Säbener Straße was a relief for the Pole. He gladly bore the various congratulations he received on his performance at the recent tournament, and offered his own in return, but even he couldn’t stop from tensing at the mention of what he considered to be a thoroughly subpar performance. Jumping into the familiar monotony of the training exercises allowed him to forget all about that, clearing his mind and focusing on the task at hand, rather than the regrets of the past.

 

All the players who got a national team call up, save for the spritely Sanches, were in a more subdued mood than usual, but that was to be expected. The last time most of them had played football had been a crushing loss, and though it didn’t make Robert sad, or even angry, it certainly sobered him a little.

 

There was plenty to distract him however, from their new head coach to new players joining the team, which is probably why it took him longer to notice what was off about that training session. While he might have expected it from the other Die Mannschaft players, it was a little jarring to realise that they’d make it almost all the way to the end of the training session without a single jibe, joke or prank from Bayern’s resident comedian Thomas Müller. He hadn’t been paying awfully close attention to his striking partner, but when he paused to think about it, his friend hadn’t been performing as well as he usually did. He’d been kicking the ball about like his heart wasn’t in it, and like his mind was somewhere else. Robert would bet any amount of money that his head was stuck back in France, still thinking about all those goals he didn’t score.

 

To finish up the day’s session, Robert and Thomas have been told to brush up on their penalties with Manu in net, while the rest of the team started the cool down. As the two forwards stood waiting for Manu to position himself, Robert smiled lightly at his friend, hoping to get one back in response. And he did, sort of, it ended up coming out as more of a grimace, and the look in his eyes made it plain that he didn’t harbour any feelings that should have come with it. The sight made Robert’s heart sink slightly, it was something he wasn’t used to seeing, and he found that he missed Thomas’ smile far more than he thought he would.

 

Things didn’t improve once they started the drill. Though a little rusty, Robert felt like he was doing reasonably well, he just wished the same could be said for his teammate. Five minutes in, and he was yet to score, whether because Manu saved them with ease, or because he hit the woodwork, or even because he missed the goal entirely. As time went on Thomas grew increasingly frustrated, kicking up chunks of grass and dirt, and muttering every time he missed yet another shot, Robert knew very little Bavarian but he got the gist of what was being said. A couple times he contemplated stepping in, to try calm him down and get him to focus rather than beating himself up, but the thunderous look on his face made him pause each time. As Robert lined up to take another shot, Neuer shot him a concerned glance, and shifted his head towards Thomas, who didn’t see because he was too busy staring at the ground viciously, the Pole could only shrug in reply to the silent question. By this time, the rest of the team were standing and watching, waiting for them to finish up so they could go get their showers, it seemed they’d been told they couldn’t leave until Thomas finally scored.

 

“Come on Thomas!” Robben called from the touchline gaining the attention of the two strikers, sounding equal parts frustrated and cajoling, “We’re not in France anymore, you’re allowed to score.”

 

Even Robert winced a little at that. There was nothing malicious in the way he’d said it, but considering the mood Thomas was in, it was a little insensitive. He probably expected some smart retort, a joke thrown back in his face with a laugh. There was no chance of that happening. Glancing at the German stood next to him, Robert saw his expression darken, clouding over as his eyes flashed dangerously, a sign that a nerve had been struck.

 

“Thomas,” he warned and reached out to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but he was too late and missed, Thomas was already striding away from him, heading straight towards their Dutch teammate, shoulders set, and hands curled into fists, “Thomas!”

 

But he didn’t look back, or even show any sign that he’d heard Robert, he just kept striding onwards with vicious purpose. He was walking so quickly that by the time Robert began to jog after him, he was only meters from Arjen, who appeared unbothered by the furious look on his teammates face. Maybe he thought it was a joke, or just all an act, but Robert felt like he could see what was going to happen seconds before it did.

 

Thomas grabbed the front of Arjen’s shirt in his tight grip, yanking him forward so they were nose to nose. He was saying something, too low and too quietly for Robert to hear as he rushed forward. The expression on the Dutchman’s face had changed now, he too looked enraged, angered by the aggressive reaction from his teammate and the injury to his pride. Whatever Thomas had said didn’t take long because he pushed Arjen away, none too kindly, but it also couldn’t have been very nice, because by the time he let go, Robben looked positively murderous. The teammates stood around them looked a little shell shocked, and none of them made it move to intervene, meaning there was no one to stop the swift punch Arjen delivered to the side of Thomas’ face.

 

Luckily, Robert got there just as Thomas made to launch himself forward, and managed to pull him back by his shoulders. It was only then that he felt the harsh angles of his teammate’s collar bones and shoulder blades, and realised that as skinny as he had always been, he had come back from the break looking thinner than ever. The rest of the team finally got their wits about them and Robert saw Jerome and Xabi restraining Arjen as he placed himself in front of Thomas so he had no way of moving towards his teammate, who looked ready to deliver another blow. Thomas wasn’t looking at Robert, but now he could see that the punch had made contact with his nose which was now bleeding,

 

“Christ calm down!” Robert said as firmly as he could manage, but the alarm slipped into his tone uninvited. He placed his palm on Thomas’ chest, partly to draw his attention away from Arjen (who was muttering murderously to the teammates trying to placate him), and partly to try sedate him. It worked, mostly, Thomas’ eyes flickered to his own, and it was like his anger snapped, the momentary fire extinguishing itself, all that replaced it was guilt and what looked like sadness. Beneath the tips of his fingers Robert could feel the wild, rapid beating of Thomas’ heart, and was struck by how oddly intimate the sensation was, but had no time to dwell on it as Carlo and the remaining training staff, along with Manu, finally joined the group.

 

“Right everyone inside, get showered and get off home, except you Müller, you’re going to cool off and then we’re talking,” their head coach barked his orders, pulling rank over the team with a stern look that sent them all marching into the dressing rooms. Doing as he was told Robert trailed behind his teammates, but he couldn’t help but glance back at Thomas. He had also done as Carlo had asked, and had walked off towards the other side of the pitch, stamping his feet probably a little more than was necessary, Robert saw him attempting to wipe his still bleeding nose, and noted that he winced at the contact. His chest felt heavy watching him, he hadn’t expected him to be so affected by what had happened at the Euros, and while Arjen might have been a little out of line, it was jarring to see such a reaction from someone who was usually so laidback. Part of him wanted to change direction and run after his teammate, to say something, though he didn’t know what, but he could see Carlo eying him as he hesitated and he knew better than to disobey his new coach on his first week back.

 

By the time he finished showering and headed back into the dressing room, Arjen had already left, and Thomas was yet to appear.

 

“Is Arjen okay?” he asked Joshua, who was pulling on his shoes next to him, and had been one of the first to leave the showers.

 

“He’s a bit pissed off I guess,” Joshua shrugged, looking a little peeved by all of the late drama, “I didn’t ask to be fair.”

 

Robert couldn’t blame Joshua there, but he thanked the young German and told him not to worry about it too much. With any luck tomorrow would roll around and the whole thing would be forgotten. He kept this thought in his mind as he finished dressing, he certainly hadn’t imagined that returning to his club would be this eventful. It was harder to stay focused on thinking positively when the minutes ticked by and Thomas never appeared, glancing out the frosted window that he could see through the doorway he saw that it had started to rain, a summer shower, and though it still wouldn’t be cold out, he didn’t like to think that Carlo was making Thomas stay out in it. But glancing at his watch, he figured that they had to be done talking, so why had his teammate now appeared yet? He was one of the last people in the dressing room and knew he should probably just go home, as he’d been told to do. And as awful as Thomas’ mood clearly was, the idea of him being alone didn’t sit well with him. He supposed it was their closeness that made him feel guilty for not realising his friend was feeling this was sooner, after Germany’s semi-final exit to France they’d only exchanged a few messages of commiseration before heading off on their respective summer breaks. But this kind of guilt sat heavy, like it was his own sadness, not Thomas’. He wrestled with himself for a moment, but as apprehensive as he might have felt about approaching his teammate, there was no way he could just leave him without at least trying to help.

 

Now fully dressed, Robert left his bag in the dressing room but headed back out into the training ground, the rain had picked up by then, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, though his jumper was not by any means waterproof. Pulling his sleeves down over his hands, at first he couldn’t see anyone lurking around, and wondered whether Thomas had already left without collecting his things. Then he spotted a figure sitting in between one of the goals, his back resting against one of the posts, facing the other which he was throwing a ball against, catching it, and then repeating the process. As Robert approached he could hear the dull thuds as the ball hit the woodwork hard, a rhythm that was in time with his footsteps.

 

He didn’t say anything as he took his place opposite Thomas, catching the ball next time he threw it, rather than letting it bounce off the post above his head. Still wearing his training gear, it was clear he’d been sat in the ran for some time, his hair had started to cling to the wet skin of his forehead, and the colours of his clothes had become darker. He frowned at Robert, an expression that wasn’t too different from the small pout he’d been wearing all day, it made him look older and younger all at once, both weary and childlike. The rain had done something to wash the blood off his face, but it was still smeared above his lips, marring his otherwise clear skin. There was a jolt in Robert’s chest as he was hit with the overwhelming urge to reach over and give his friend a hug.

 

“What did Carlo say?” he asked Thomas before he could open his mouth to tell him to leave, he tossed the ball back to the German in an imitation of a classroom game, so Thomas would only speak when he held the ball.

 

“Not much, told me to sort myself out, asked me what was up,” he shrugged as he spoke, his voice almost bordering on bored, or tired. It wasn’t a sound he heard often. Robert knew Thomas was many things, but through everything he was always crackling with energy and emotion, whether it be good or bad. The measured quality to his voice told Robert that he was carefully controlling himself, not giving anything away. He knew him well enough to know that, but not well enough to know exactly what he was stopping himself from showing or feeling. Copying Robert, he returned the ball in a swift pass.

 

“And is it just the Euros? Is that what’s bothering you?” Robert asked, taking the most obvious guess, hoping he wasn’t being too blunt about it. The ball was thrown between them once again.

 

“Well, yeah. I just-,” after a pause Thomas admitted it, and he seemed on the verge of saying more, but stopped short, “You wouldn’t understand.”

 

That stung Robert, he frowned at the man opposite him as he caught the ball between his hands. Maybe he was too preoccupied with his own struggles to see that the tournament hadn’t been easy for him either, maybe even harder, with the additional pressures of acting as captain.

 

“We didn’t exactly have a fairy tale tournament either Thomas, we went out even earlier than you guys did,” he deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. Thomas at least had the decency to look sheepish, lowering his head.

 

“Yeah, sorry,” he apologised, “It’s just, even with that, at least you still played as amazing as ever. At least you can still be proud of yourself. Me, I didn’t even score, not once. I played perfectly ordinarily, and that’s nothing to be proud of.”

 

After his explanation Thomas looked more sheepish than ever, like he was embarrassed about the reasons for his poor mood. He still held the ball tight in his grip, his eyes boring into it so intensely Robert was worried he might actually set it on fire.

 

“I let everyone down,” Thomas finally whispered, so quietly Robert could barely hear it over the sound of the rain that beat down on the hard ground. Huffing he threw the football back to Robert, but kept his eyes downcast, focused on his hands which now sat in his lap. When he finally did look up, after an uneasy pause in the conversation, the raindrops which clung to his long eyelashes had been joined by shining, unshed tears. The sight sent another awful wave of sadness through Robert’s body, he had never seen Thomas like this, and it was as though his body didn’t quite know how to deal with it.

 

“Oh Thomas,” he said softly, sympathy dripping from his voice. It seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Thomas curled his hands into fists and used them to haul himself up off the damp ground, smacking them off the grass angrily.

 

“I know, I know. ‘Don’t be so bloody noble Thomas, it isn’t your burden to bear, blah blah blah’. Basti already gave me that speech, and Lukas, and Manu, I’ve heard it,” he ranted, throwing his hands up in the air exasperatedly, walking a little way from the goal and starting to pace. If he wasn’t so visibly distressed his dramatics might have been amusing, so Robert could only watch from his spot on the grass as his teammate scuffed the toes of his boots into the ground, kicking up dirt and soil.

 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” he said in a low voice, though he had planned to say something along those lines, he wouldn’t let Thomas know that.

 

“And it’s alright for you, you’re already captain for Poland, and everyone trusts you. A-and I don’t think I’ll ever get there because the team can’t even trust me to deliver from one tournament to the next,” he carried on as though Robert hadn’t said anything, his movements and gestures becoming more erratic and wild. Worried that he might actually injure himself Robert stood, but kept his distance as Thomas continued, “What happens when everyone else leaves or retires? I’ll play well, yeah sure, sometimes, but I’ll never be good enough to lead.”

 

“Hey, hey. Just calm down okay?” Robert finally intervened his ranting, placing his hands on Thomas’ shoulders, and when the words finally stopped he was left breathing hard, his chest visibly rising and falling. The unshed tears still shone in his eyes, but his cheeks were flushed in annoyance and frustration now. It gave his entire expression a heated look of intensity about it that was markedly unsettling, “Just breathe.”

 

“Okay,” Thomas said quietly, sounding rather breathless now that he had stopped stomping around. He was staring at Robert hard, like he was trying to work something out, though it was the expression on his own face that was entirely unreadable. Clearly this complex wasn’t going to be something he was getting over with any ease, and evidently it was causing him relative distress.

 

“Let me help you,” he said, the most honest words which had come out of his mouth in weeks. Because that was why he had come back outside looking for Thomas, he didn’t think he could deal with the knowledge that he was upset and he was doing nothing about it. It felt like guilt, but spoke of something deeper.

 

He had expected his help would involve maybe a pep talk and buying him too much ice cream. He hadn’t thought it would involve Thomas pressing their lips together with such force that Robert had to blindly grapple for the goalpost behind his back to stop himself from falling over. It was less of a kiss and more of a violent clash of mouths. Robert could see that Thomas had his eyes scrunched shut, tightly, before he felt his own flutter closed, as an unexpected wave of electricity washed over him. He wasn’t sure what to do but prop himself up on the wooden post and try not to think about how much he enjoyed the feeling of Thomas’ clumsy hands grasping at his hair. When Thomas pulled away, he wore an impish grin that was half mischievous, half sheepish, that said he hadn’t quite meant for things to go that way, but he didn’t feel all that bad about it.

 

“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Robert said with a nervous laugh, swallowing hard, trying to diffuse some of the tension he could feel creeping up on him. He tried not to look shell shocked, but there was a definite blush creeping up on his cheeks, warming his face. Though Thomas’ eyes were ringed with red, and there was no hiding that he looked tired and thinner than usual, the kiss (or maybe it was just Robert’s reaction) had fired up something in him.

 

“Whoops?” Thomas said, not sounding very sorry, and shrugging his shoulders theatrically. Robert still wasn’t sure what to make of what he’d done, or how he felt about it, but he thought it would be easier for both of them if he didn’t dwell on that.

 

“Come on, it’s soaking out here,” he wrapped an arm around Thomas’ shoulders giving him a half hug, and started to try lead him towards the dressing room, “You can stay at my place tonight if you like.”

 

“Oh can I?” Thomas joked suggestively, in a slightly lack lustre attempt, but an attempt all the same.

 

“Not like that,” Robert scoffed, giving him a gentle shove. Though if he was being honest, if kissing Thomas twice felt anything like it did kissing him once, he didn’t think it sounded like a bad prospect at all.

 

“A shame,” Thomas deadpanned, before turning and pressing a particularly wet kiss to Robert’s cheek. That was more like the Thomas he’d known before the Euros had gone and messed with his head. The kind of Thomas Robert was beginning to think he would like to get to know, not a little better, but perhaps just in a different way.


	2. ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the second chapter! I don't usually write smut much, at least not in so much detail, so sorry if it's not great. But I really hope you enjoy it because I had fun writing it :)

Thomas reached Robert’s car before he did, pulling open the unlocked door and unceremoniously throwing himself into the passenger’s seat. The Pole watched as he made himself comfortable, tossing his bag into the back seat, strapping himself in and tucking his long legs beneath him as far as the limited room would allow. While Thomas had been showering both to clean and warm himself up, without his usual rendition of Stern des Südens, Robert had contemplated retracting his offer, suddenly worried about the implications of what he had suggested. He had meant it in the most literal sense, since he knew that Thomas wouldn’t want to be alone. He had watched the German seek out company whenever he had a bad day or a bad game, Thomas was never one to let himself wallow alone. But that kiss complicated things, Robert tried not to think about it as he let himself into the driver’s seat, but he could feel himself blushing as he sat down and pulled out of the car park.

 

He didn’t know if he’d ever thought of Thomas that way before, he certainly couldn’t remember doing so. Of course, they got along well, and there was always something unspoken in the way they seemed to be on exactly the same wavelength, both on and off the pitch. But he figured that must be the case with most partnerships in football. Then there was the fact that when he was in the mood, Thomas didn’t seem able to keep his hands off him, and Robert never seemed to feel as annoyed by it as his other teammates. That didn’t have to mean anything though, did it? All of that was excusable as platonic feelings. But what could not be dismissed so easily was the numbingly exhilarating feeling that had run through his veins when Thomas had kissed him, even thinking about it he had to suppress a shudder. He wondered if Thomas had been as unprepared for that reaction as he had, or if he’d wanted to do that for some time, if he’d thought about how it might feel.

 

 _Stop that_ , he told himself firmly, shaking his head to rid those unwanted thoughts. He glanced sideways at Thomas to make sure he hadn’t noticed his lapse in concentration – something he shouldn’t be doing while driving. But his friend was focused on the road ahead, an unseeing stare that looked out into the rain, it was an incredibly pensive expression and Robert couldn’t help but wonder what could be going on his in head. When he looked away again, he was hit by the desire to look back, clawing at his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. Aware it would be safer if he just kept looking at the road while he drove, he couldn’t help but sneak a look sideways, just for a second. This time Thomas’ eyes weren’t on the road but boring into his own, the look in them was similar to the one he’d worn right before he’d taken the liberty to press their lips together. When he caught Robert’s gaze he smiled, which softened the shine in his eyes a little, but it didn’t slip the Pole’s notice that his smile was paper thin, and disappeared barely a second after it appeared.

 

Embarrassed at being caught staring, but more concerned about what was going on in Thomas’ head, he chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully, trying to spend the rest of the car journey pointedly ignoring the fact that Thomas was flicking his eyes to look at him every so often.

 

“You can put your bag in the living room, I’ll make coffee or…something,” he said as the two of them got out of the car. He wanted to not feel so awkward about everything, but he couldn’t push what had happened at the training ground from his mind, nor could he think about an appropriate way of broaching the subject. His striking partner was usually an open book, but right then Robert hadn’t the first clue what he was thinking or feeling.

 

At least he did do as Robert suggested, and sat in the living room while he pottered about the kitchen, trying to drag out the process of making coffee as long as possible so he could gather himself somewhat. It seemed he had gone over what would be considered an acceptable time because as he was watching the pot brew he heard the footsteps of the never patient Thomas, and looked up to see him enter through the doorway. He had taken his shoes off and was wandering around bare foot, he’d also obviously pulled a grey hoodie from his training bag, and had bundled himself in it, making him look smaller and younger than he usually did.

 

“You’ve been in here a while,” he commented, raising an eyebrow, burying his hands deep into his pockets.

 

“Yeah sorry, it was taking a while,” he explained vaguely, waving his hands towards the machine that was chugging away, steam escaping from the top. Though he hadn’t thought much more about what he was going to say he couldn’t stop himself from hastily asking Thomas;

 

“Can we talk about what happened? You know…” he left his sentence open ended, hoping Thomas would understand his meaning, though he had put it coyly.

 

“You mean the kiss?” Thomas asked bluntly, though Robert was sure he knew exactly what his meaning was, and just wanted to see his face flush.

 

“Yes that,” he said, his words coming out slightly choked in all his embarrassment. He didn’t know why he was so self-conscious about it. Maybe because he was worried that he was letting it affect him too much, that he was taking it to mean more than it meant? Thomas didn’t seem to think much of it. Maybe it was only ever meant to be his way of seeking comfort. Robert didn’t know if he liked how much that notion disappointed him.

 

“What’s there to talk about?” Thomas shrugged, sauntering over to the counter to peer at the slowly filling coffee pot like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and prodded at it with his finger. That made Robert feel a little bit better. With Thomas’ poor mood it had been hard to gauge how he was feeling, and even though he was still the more laidback one of the two of them, it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one that didn’t know how to swallow this tension.

 

“I don’t know, I just thought it wasn’t a good idea to leave it without saying anything,” Robert said trying to sound nonchalant. Clearly the easy way out would have been to agree there was nothing to say and suggest they forget about it. But he knew that he didn’t want to do that.

 

“Right,” Thomas nodded, turning from the counter to face Robert, “Well we kissed, and…I mean, unless you invited me here to seduce me I think we’ll be okay to leave it at that?”

 

Robert could tell Thomas was joking, but that didn’t stop him from indignantly spluttering denials and excuses, though there really should have been nothing to excuse. At least that reaction drew a real smile from his friend, who even started laughing at his expense. Avoiding looking at him while he recovered, he busied himself with getting two mugs out of the cupboard and pouring milk into them. Distantly he was aware of Thomas moving from his spot by the coffee machine to stand next to him but he didn’t look up from what he was doing.

 

“Unless…” Thomas drew the word out, getting Robert’s attention, “You want to do it again?”

 

His eyebrow was raised questioningly, and he looked serious, far too serious for Thomas. Not for the first time today, he saw a new expression on his friend’s face. He was surprised at his question, it made him straighten so he could look at him properly.

 

“I…” he stammered, not wanting to say no, but not knowing how to say yes. He only knew that he wanted to. And that in itself shocked him.

 

“Yes?” Thomas asked expectantly, and he was grinning widely now. It was that beaming smile that Robert leant over and captured with his own mouth.

 

It was nothing like their first kiss, in that they were both ready this time, and they matched each other for the want with which they moved. Eagerly, Robert wrapped his arms around Thomas’ waist so he could pull him closer, their chests bumping together, and couldn’t stop the smirk when he felt Thomas’ hands rake their way through his hair. The same unstoppable feeling of electricity he’d felt briefly the first time they kissed returned, amplified now, making it hard to feel his own hands. His mind was fuzzy like he was moving in a dream, but the sharp sting of pleasure that coursed through his body when he felt Thomas lightly bite down on his bottom lip told him that this was real.

 

“Wait,” he said pulling away, an act that took a surprising amount of strength, but he couldn’t ignore what had been bothering him earlier. That doing this was just taking advantage of Thomas, “I shouldn’t, I’m supposed to be helping not-.”

 

But Thomas swiftly interrupted him.

 

“This is helping,” he assured him, placing a hand on his face so he could reconnect their lips. Robert was about to protest some more when Thomas moved his lips down to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. All thoughts of stopping flew out the window as a contented sigh left his mouth, and he tilted his head backwards to give Thomas more room.

 

“Still want to stop?” Thomas asked, sliding a hand up the front of his t-shirt, the skin of his palm cool against the hot skin of Robert’s torso. His mouth moving against his neck sent pleasant vibration across his skin.

 

“No,” Robert shook his head, carding his fingers through Thomas’ hair, tugging softly to pull him closer. It was as though the temperature in the room had risen by ten degrees, affecting his better judgement, making it incredibly hard to think beyond what Thomas was doing and how he only wanted more. He let Thomas pull his shirt off over his head, and in return he pressed him against the counter, smirking when he felt the soft gasp as he pressed their lips together once more. Kissing Thomas was one thing, but feeling his fingers grasping against the bare skin of his back, being pressed up against him so he could feel every angle and curve of his body made it hard to think straight, let alone stop the uncomfortable feeling growing in his jeans. Something he knew Thomas was feeling too when he felt his own hardness rubbing against him.

 

Panting, he managed to get a hold of himself and pull away to say;

 

“I’m not having sex with you in my kitchen,” he murmured, and Thomas pressed a lazy kiss to his chin in response.

 

“So you’re having sex with me now, are you?”

 

Robert just rolled his eyes, and clumsily pulled Thomas by the hand to his room, both of them discarding items of clothing as they went, so by the time he was pushing Thomas down onto the sheets he was only wearing his underwear. He tired hard not to think about how tempting it would be to just pull them off and take the lead, but if this was supposed to be about Thomas feeling better than he could be in charge. This time.

 

Kissing Thomas hard, Robert moved so he was straddling Thomas’ hips, and had to restraint from audibly groaning when his hips bucked upwards, and settled instead for tightening his grip on Thomas’ hair and pushing him deeper into the soft sheets. He probably enjoyed the sight of him grasping onto them as he teasingly ground their hips together.

 

“Fuck,” Thomas stammered, turning his head to the side so he could breathe, and they both paused for a moment, breathing hard, sweating. Only for a moment though, until Thomas pushed Robert off him so it was his turn to position himself on top. He let Thomas use his hands to hold his forearms down on either side of his shoulders, and tried hard not to show how much it made his head spin when he moved his lips from his mouth, to his jaw, to his collarbone, to his chest, to his stomach and all the way down to the waistline of his own underwear. What it was impossible to hide however was how hard he was, achingly so, a sensation that bordered on painful when Thomas pressed a soft kiss to the covered skin just left of his hipbone.

 

“O mój Boże,” the Polish fell from his lips as unintentionally as the low groan that accompanied it, the frustration almost becoming unbearable as he pressed a hand to his face to try muffle the sound. But Thomas seemed to understand his meaning as he wasted no time in pulling his underwear off, and taking his hard length into his mouth.

 

If he thought the feeling of Thomas’ lips around his cock would offer any relief then he was very wrong, if anything it intensified the feelings of want and desire. Clutching at the bed sheets, he bunched it in his grip with one hand, unable to stop himself from using his other hand to guide Thomas’ head until the rhythm and tempo was one that was satisfying him. Dimly he was aware that while one of Thomas’ hands remained gripped tight against his thigh, bracing himself as Robert moved his head, the other had gone to his own cock, trying to satiate both himself and Robert at the time. All concept of time had left him but it felt like an age before he could feel his own climax building in the pit of his stomach, a tightening knot that was begging to come undone.

 

“Fuck, fuck,” he repeated, low, under his breath, his back arching, and as he finally came, “Thomas!”

 

He was mildly surprised as Thomas didn’t move his mouth as he came, swallowing his load whole, wiping his mouth as he raised his head. Lazily, still filled with the haze of his orgasm, Robert reached down to help Thomas finish himself off, both of their hands moving together, until Thomas buried his face into his shoulder, and with a shudder he came too.

 

When Thomas kissed him, it was possible to taste himself on his tongue, like leaving his mark on him, and it was that which filled his mind as they fell back against the pillows. Both too exhausted to do anything but press gentle kisses to each other’s faces, their limps still entangled. Just as he thought sleep was coming to claim him, Thomas said;

 

“We forgot about the coffee.”

 

And Robert could only laugh in response.

 

“That can wait until the morning.”


End file.
